


When You Wish Upon A Star

by tonnyerenthing



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/F, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-29
Updated: 2014-08-26
Packaged: 2018-01-21 05:59:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1540226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tonnyerenthing/pseuds/tonnyerenthing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He has black hair, blue eyes and glasses. He's a piano playing dork that likes god fucking awful movies. He's my room mate at college and his name is John. And, I think I might sort of like him a lot. Like, love a lot.</p>
<p>Now witness, as I do my best to (ironically) be as involved in his life as is humanly possible, and fuck it all up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Irony and Really Terrible Movies

**Author's Note:**

> ahh hello! so i got inspired to write some fluffy homestuck and well here we are. there may or may not be more ships added as this thing goes along but who knows. anyways, enjoy my first bit of homestuck writing!

"Dude, are you sure we should be toking up in my dorm room? I mean, did you see all the fuckin' stares we got when we walked in, like, if we get fucking busted-"

There's a soft bubbling noise from the huge ass bong Makara brought with him (like, seriously? That thing has to be at least six or seven feet) and a coughing fit before he says, "Dave, Dave, Daaaave Motherfuckin' Strider," he pauses, and takes another hit before finishing in between coughs, "trust me, it's not a motherfuckin' problem, man. I know the motherfucker that runs this joint."

I stare at him while he passes the bong over so I can get a good coupla hits in before he cleans the bowl, and after a good minute or two of coughing I ask, "Hold up, you know that Vantas guy?"

"Fuck yeah man. That motherfucker works fuckin' miracles."

I laugh, and look up as I pass the bong back over taking a moment to really take in Makara's appearance. You see, Gamzee Makara and I are toke buddies. We get together once or twice a week and hit the bong together, and Makara's pretty famous for having some of the best weed around campus. They've dubbed his strand "MoThErFuCkIn MiRaClEs" because of how high this shit'll get you.

It takes a few moments before the high really hits me, and I stare down my turntables for a few minutes before saying, "Dude, I've never been this fuckin' high before."

Makara looks up at me and says, "Can you move?"

I'm a little confused, and turning back to him I mumble, "Why? Am I in the way?"

We stare at each other for a moment before starting to laugh. I don't even know what's so fucking funny either, I just cannot stop laughing. I manage to calm myself enough to take the first few hits off the new bowl, and let Gamzee's weed do its magic.

Within several moments I'm drowsy as fuck, leaning up against my bed with my knees drawn up and hands folded on top of my stomach, staring up at the ceiling.

"Hey. Hey, Makara."

"Yeah, Strider?"

"Turn on the thing."

"What thing?"

"The fucking. . . The star thing. Y'know the thingy that makes it look like there're stars all over the ceiling."

"Ohhh, a'ight, I feel you, bro. I got this."

Through my peripheral vision I can see him stand up, set the star thingy on the floor, and then walk over to turn the lights off. Almost instantly, there's multi-colored galaxies all over the ceiling and walls. Of all the things I've ever done while high, this is my favorite. It's so relaxing, laying here on the floor and watching the stars above me.

Every now and again the colors will shift, and a smile spreads across my face.

Without meaning to, I say quietly, "My name is Dave Strider, and I love to get high and watch the stars."

There's the sound of bong bubbles, the whiz of the star thingy, and my own breathing hanging in the air when I finally relax completely and shut my eyes.

"Ayy Dave."

"Yeah, bro?"

"I'm gonna head the fuck out, a'ight?"

I nod some and wait for the sound of the door opening and shutting before crawling up onto my bed and passing the fuck out.

* * *

 

"Well, John? Do you think you'll like it here?"

I turn around from staring at the giant dorm building and smile at Dad while nodding.

"I think I'm going to love it, Dad."

Dad has this funny, proud look on his face. Like, he can't believe that his only son has fled the nest for college already, but at the same time couldn't possibly be any more proud of me.

He walks over and throws an arm around my shoulder, pulling me close and I notice how much I've grown over the years. I swear it wasn't too long ago when Dad seemed like a giant compared to me, but now I'm just barely a few inches shorter than he is.

I honestly can barely believe I got into the UW. I mean, I got into _the_ University of Washington. And, as excited as I am to have finally made it here, I'm a little nervous and apprehensive. I lean in closer to Dad, and I think he senses my nervousness because he says softly with his head resting on mine, "You're going to be just fine, son."

I laugh a little and say softly, "It's going to be weird living without the constant smell of cake."

Dad laughs too, a little more somberly than I did, and replies, "I'll do my best to send you as many cakes as I can." There's a brief silence between us, before Dad continues with, "Let's get you settled into your dorm room."

I smile again, and immediately pull on my backpack and messenger back while Dad unloads my suitcase and trunk from the back of the car. Together we walk up the steps that lead into the main lobby of the East Male Dorms and go up to the front desk. Where I begin a short conversation with the crabbiest and nicest people I have ever met.

"Uhm. . ." I look across the counter at the boys sitting behind it, both sitting in spinny chairs with the backs touching, one writing in a journal and the other reading a weird version of GameBro that doesn't look quite right. The letters are all funny-looking and it doesn't look like any edition of GameBro I've ever seen.

I wait several moments and neither of them even look up at me. My nervousness acts up again, and I try to force myself to say, _Excuse me, but, uhm. . . Could I please get my room key?_ but nothing comes out. Dad seems to sense this and clears his throat some, forcing both of them to look up at us. They exchange a quick glance at one another, the older looking one raising his eyebrows, and the younger one scowling back at him. The elder one nudges the younger one with his elbow, waving his hand so the other will speak.

The younger glares at the older, and says, "Ugh. . . Hi, my name is Karkat and this is Kankri. Yes we are related. Now, what the hell do you want?"

I frown some, I mean, I've never met someone that works at the front desk for anywhere be so snippy and rude.

The older one - Kankri - sighs and waves his hand again, like he's dismissing what the other had just said.

"Ignore him, he's always like this. Let me start this over. Hello, my name is Kankri Vantas, and this is Karkat Vantas. I am head of multiple clubs on campus and if you need information on any campus activities you may come to me, now, how may I help you two gentlemen?"

I can feel myself flushing a little from being asked what I need directly, and somehow manage to fumble out, "Uhm. . . I'm John Egbert and I'm looking for my dorm room and key?"

Kankri nods at me and walks to a bookshelf behind the front desk while asking, "Are you a freshman, sophomore, junior, or senior?"

"I'm a freshman."

He nods again and pulls out a large red binder from the bookcase which reads along the spine: FRESHMAN 2014

He brings it over to the desk and sets it down with a loud thump! and flips through the pages muttering, "Egbert. . . Egbert. . . Oh! Here you are! John Egbert room 202 paired with. . . Dave Strider? Hm. . . Hey, Karkat!"

"What do you want?"

"Didn't we have some kid with sunglasses come through here a week or so ago by that name?"

The Karkat guy sighs and says, "What, that Strider kid?"

I'm awfully confused and - as rude as it is - interrupt saying, "Dave. . . Strider?"

The two both nod, which makes their hair bounce around a bit and also makes them look like carbon copies of one another.

The younger one - Karkat - gets up with a bit of a grunt and pulls open a drawer embedded within the bookcase that makes a strange jingling noise, like it's full of keys. After a bit of digging he pulls out a silvery-looking key out and brings it over to Dad and I, saying, "If you want a spare key you'll have to make it yourself in the administrative building. Also, we will not be responsible if you lose this and further - will not issue you a new one."

I let out a quiet, "O-Oh. . ." before taking the key from him, and notice for the first time that their skin is sort of. . . grey. Like, it has this weird grey tint to it.

Kankri smiles at me, and says, "The elevators are down by the vending machines, and your room is on the second floor. If you have any further questions, feel free to come down in between the hours of eleven a.m. and seven p.m., okay?"

I nod and thank them before making my way over to the elevators, Dad following me.

The ride up to the second floor was fairly uneventful, but we had a little trouble finding room 202. After about fifteen minutes or so of wandering around, we finally find my room and I note to myself that it's several doors down from the stairs leading to the roof of the building. I unlock the door and find the room occupied, with the Dave Strider guy laying on top of his bed asleep and one of those star projector thingies set up on the floor and running.

I walk in and set my things down on the bed opposite to his, noticing when turning to help Dad find a place for my suitcase and trunk that he's kind of. . . handsome. Like Kankri and Karkat said, he's wearing sunglasses even though he's sleeping but at the same time wearing a shirt with a white body and red sleeves with a record on the front, and his hair is a very pale blond that sort of glows a little in the small amount of light spilling in from the hallway. On further inspection I find that his skin is very, very pale which is fairly common up here in the Pacific Northwest but at the same time it has a slight color to it like he's spent most of his life in a state where there's a lot of sunlight.

A little bit of hair's fallen underneath his sunglasses and I have this weird compulsion to brush it back up from underneath. I shake my head a little bit and shove those thoughts to the back of my mind, turning back to Dad. Dad has a small smile on his face and his hands on his hips. I smile back, and he says softly, "I think I'll take my leave now. Your Nanna might need a little help in baking her confections and putting them away."

I nod and say quietly, "Thanks for coming with me Dad. . ."

Dad walks up and hugs me, and I feel a little. . . scared. Dad smells like cake, the same way our house does and as much as I hate cake I might start to miss having the smell of baked goods around all the time.

I watch as Dad leaves the room and shuts the door behind him, leaving me alone with the sort of handsome Dave Strider guy and my things. After putting most of my stuff away, I lay down on the floor with my feet on my new bed and stare at the stars on the ceiling. Out of politeness - or laziness, either one - I neglect to turn the overhead light on, kind of.  . . enjoying watching the stars on the walls and ceiling change color; and I guess also waiting for the Dave Strider guy to wake up. Which doesn't happen until long after I should have gotten up to eat something with the money Dad gave me and the sun slowly drifted down to the other side of the world.

* * *

 

I roll over and fall off the bed waking myself up, and find that I am face-to-face with a kid I don't know. The tips of our noses are touching, and my eyes cross a little bit while trying to take in all his features at once.

The boy has to be about nineteen or so, with dark black hair and a prominent overbite. From the looks of it, he fell asleep quite some time ago with his glasses on. I'm almost kinda tempted to pick him up and put him in his bed.

I rolls over onto my back and push my shades up to my forehead so I can rub my eyes, muttering to myself, "No fuckin' homo, dude."

It's a dumb idea, I mean, even doing it for irony 'n' shit it's still dumb and kind of weird. I mean, the guy's asleep and I don't even know what his fuckin' name is. The most I know about him is what he looks like and oh my fucking god he sleeps like a child. I roll back over to face him, shades still pushed up on my forehead so I can see him better. The guy even has a child-like face.

I reach out to pull his glasses off and right as I've got the outer frame in between my fingers, his eyes open a little bit, showing a small sliver of the bluest fucking eyes I've ever seen. He brings his hand up to rub his eye and it crashes into my own. I can feel my face heat up as he gradually opens his eyes wider and wider.

The boy lets out a quiet, "Cute. . ." and I think he's still half asleep.

He wakes up a little more and I scramble to use my other hand to pull my shades back down before he sees my eyes. I push them down a little more than is necessary, the bottom of the lenses resting on my cheeks. We sort of just lay like this for a while, looking at one another. After a few minutes it gets a little awkward and I cough some, trying to do the whole coolest motherfucker around thing and right as I open my mouth to speak he says, "Are you Dave? Dave Strider?"

My face heats up again, and I manage to fumble out a yes. I don't know how, but everything about him is cute. His voice, his hair, his eyes, literally every-fucking-thing. After a few moments he smiles at me, and I swear I'm having heart palpitations.

In a soft, gentle voice he says, "Hi Dave, I'm John." and I'm practically swooning. What the hell is happening to me? Where did the coolest motherfucker around walk off to? No one's done this to me before, I just, what the everloving fuck is going on!

I try to smile back, but my face doesn't wanna work so instead, I pull a poker face and mumble, "Eheh. . . Hey, John."

"Out of all the things in the world, what's your favorite?"

"Well. . . I like irony a lot, I guess."

John laughs a little, and says in that soft, gentle voice, "I like pranks, and really terrible movies."

And then we spend the rest of the night like that. Laying down on the floor and talking. We talk about everything, from the things we don't like to what life at home was like before coming here.

"Wait, so you're telling me that you and your older brother would spar with one another, like, all the time?"

I laugh and say, "Yeah, I can't remember a week that went by without sparring with Bro. And there would be all this weird shit all over the apartment, like, one time he filled the entire fridge with shitty swords."

John laughs again, and I think I've turned into some sappy motherfucker because my heart feels like it's melting. "Oh my god, Dave, that's priceless."

"Dude, Bro and I would do all sorts of weird shit in the name of irony. I mean, he almost bought a daycare center just for the irony of it."

John's smiling at me again, and I can't help but smile back. Y'know, I'm not entirely too sure what love is, but I think that this may just be it.


	2. Drive in Burger Joint

This is the second time I've woken up with my nose touching John's. I push my shades up onto my forehead and smile while looking at him. His face is just as childlike as it was God knows how many hours ago. John has his hands pulled up to his chest and from what I can feel he's adjusted himself so that he can snuggle (I can barely believe I'm using that word) as close to me as possible.

He frowns, in his sleep and I can hear him mumbling. "Like. . . Dave. . . Handsome. . ."

I might just be a conceited motherfucker but I'm pretty sure he's talking about me. My smile grows and I whisper, "John. I think I like you."

John sighs and smiles and I'll be damned if he's not the cutest person in existence. I reach up and gently pull his glasses off his face; silently wondering how often I'll have to do this while we share a room.

For a long while I lay on the floor like this. Although, I did work up the nerve to place my right hand on the side of his face and softly rub my thumb across John's cheek. Fuck, I've known the guy for less that twenty-four hours and he's already making me a sappy little shit. But, to be honest, I'm pretty fuckin' content to lay here and watch him sleep. He sleeps so peacefully I can't really seem to help it.

An hour has to have passed before John starts to stir and open his eyes. I give John a small smile while he rubs his eyes to try to wake up and chuckle some; saying in a thick over exaggerated and blatantly female Southern accent, "Rise and shine dahlin' we've got a big day ahead'a us."

John laughs then blushes when he puts his hand on top of mine. Which has casually been resting on the side of his face the way Obama casually lounges in the Oval Office when he chills. If he chills-even presidents chill. Right? I mean they've gotta chill how else'd you deal with all that President-y bull shit they gotta- _anyways_ , he blushes harder-looking from me to our feet and to me again.

I give him my best lopsided friendly totally-not-probably-crushing-on-you-even-though-we-met-several-hours-ago grin to which he grins back and mumbles, "Nnn, g'morning." John pauses and rubs his eyes before continuing, "Dave, what time is it?"

As much as I don't want to I pull away from John and sit up glancing at the oh so very ironic bright pink alarm clock Bro gave me before I left. I look back to John and mumble, "It's about eleven thirty in the morning."

John looks up at me and says, "Have you ever had Dick's before?"

I'm incredibly confused. Did he just asked me if I've ever had dicks before? No way that can't possibly be. I look back down at John and reply, "Look man, we're friends but I don't think I'm rollin' for you that way."  _  
_

John snorts and says, "No, you dingus Dick's _burgers_. It's a drive in burger joint."

"Oh," I pause and scramble to pull my shades down over my eyes to hide my embarrassment. "No, I haven't had Dick's burgers before. Is that one of those weird only-in-Western-Washington things because I've found a lotta fuckin' those."

John sits up and I'm not sure if he's even aware that he does it but he scoots closer to me with his eyes all lit up in an anime kind of way saying, "Yeah! They're only, like, the best burgers and fries in the universe!!" He pulls my right hand into both of his bringing them up to his chest and it takes every bone in my body to keep the Strider face of cool. And not kiss him.

Wait. Kiss him? What the fuck is this Brokeback Mountain freshman college student edition? It couldn't possibly be this easy for a Strider to be crushing on someone so hard. I think John senses my unease because he carefully sets my hand on top of his lap and murmurs, "If you don't want to go that's okay. I won't make you."

Seeing the sad, guilty look on his face I can feel my heart going out to him and think to myself, _God damn am I in deep._

I think, I might just be starting to fall in love with this kid.

* * *

 

Dave has the softest hands I've ever come across. I mean, it feels like Dave's upset over something and I do the only thing I know how to when someone's upset: take their hand in mine and rub my thumb across the back of their hand gently. Like Dad would do when I was little and had a nightmare with those awful clowns.

I think Dave relaxes some because he uses his other hand to make me look at him and smirks, saying that he'd totally go out to get some burgers with me.

The walk down to Dick's is fairly uneventful. Dave walks fairly close to me and listens to everything I have to say, even telling me 'not to be sorry' when I apologize for being such a jabber box. Occasionally Dave'll whip out his phone and take a picture of something or someone he sees and explain to me that he made an Instagram just for pictures of people and places in Seattle.

"Wait. So, you're telling me that you made an account on Instagram _just_ for pictures of the people and places in Seattle?"

Dave laughs, "Of fuckin' course I did. Gotta record the Strider bane's existence everywhere it goes, yo."

"Dave, I am one hundred percent sure that's not how you use the word bane."

Dave shakes his head at me, making what I think is a disappointed sound before saying, "John, John, John. I am two hundred percent sure that's _exactly_ how you use the word bane."

"Dave."

"Yes, dear?"

He uses that ridiculous over exaggerated accent again and I can't help but laugh so hard I snort.

"It's just Seattle, y'know. The Rainy City," I shove my hands in my pockets before continuing. "It's not all that big of a deal. I mean, like. . . It's not like Paris or London or Lisbon or a big capital."

Dave outright laughs at me and I turn to glare at him while Dave gives me that lopsided grin in return. "John. This is the furthest I've ever been outside'a Houston."

A genuine accent comes out with Dave's words and I think my heart's swelling or something. His accent is so nice. . . Like music to my ears or something. I don't think I've heard something this wonderful sounding in, well, forever.

I actually have to stop walking for a moment and place my hand over my chest while looking at Dave. The sort of handsome Dave Strider who notices that I'm not walking close to him anymore and stops to turn and ask me if I'm alright.

I know that I'm staring but I can't help it, Dave's pulled his sunglasses off while walking towards me and I've finally gotten a good look at his eyes. In the dim light of our room they looked deep brown but out in the daylight they're a candy red color that's absolutely mesmerizing.

I desperately want to reach out to pull him closer to me and see if this isn't just some trick that's being pulled on me but I can't seem to move. I'm just stuck standing here and looking at Dave. The most _definitely_ handsome Dave Strider with his candy red eyes, honey blond hair, fair pallor with a hint of being sunkissed, a posed way of standing, and the way he's looking at me.

I almost don't notice how close Dave's standing in front of me from gazing so intently into those eyes. His nose touches mine again and I step back, blushing and horribly embarrassed.

There's concern written all over his face and Dave murmurs, "John? Are you okay? You're freaking me out here, say something, dude."

"I-oh, I, uhm. . . Sorry about that!" I laugh half heartedly and try to stop my hands from shaking. "Just sort of. . . spaced out for a second there."

Dave frowns and takes a step back, saying, "That was a little more than a second, Johnny."

It's my turn to frown now, and I reply, "Hey! Not cool, man. It's John not Johnny. Not even my Dad calls me that anymore!"

Dave slips his sunglasses back over those eyes and I can feel my heart fall before he grins at me and says, "Anymore, huh? So you're saying that you were 'little Johnny' to your Dad? Huh huh?"

My stomach rumbles and I shake my head exasperatedly, "It wasn't little Johnny, Dave, it was little _bear_ ," I grab his hand and pull him behind me, continuing, "C'mon, let's go eat! I'm hungry as fuck, dude."

* * *

 

John is holding my hand. I repeat, my cute, dorky dorm mate is _holding my hand_. The same John that was just gazing into my eyes like a love struck schoolgirl not more than a minute 'n' a half ago. I can feel my heart puff up the more I think about the way he had been looking at me. John was eyeing me the way my cousin Rose eyes her girlfriend Kanaya. Which is saying something, I mean, Rose'd never admit it but she's hopelessly in love with her girlfriend.

Look, what I'm trying to say is that John looked at me like Juliet probs looked at Romeo. Y'know like Rom was the Earth, and the sun, and the stars and everything that's good in the world. The way an alcoholic looks at their favorite bottle. The way Michelle Obama looks at her children. Wait. No no no, that's, ew oh my god. Why would I even think that? Jesus, fuck, I'm gonna have to scrub my brain with fuckin' bleach after that.

ANYWAYS, John's stopped and let go of my hand, turning to me to say, "We're here!"

I look up to see a giant old-looking sign that says _Dick's Hamburgers Instant Service_ in huge letters that you'd probably be able to read from down the street.

John takes my hand again and pulls me up towards the counter, hurriedly asking what my favorite milkshake flavor is, if I'm allergic to dairy, and how much I weigh.

"I like root beer floats over milkshakes, no I'm not allergic to dairy and I'm one hun-wait. What?" I frown. How much I weigh?

John looks at me and says in the most innocent voice I've ever heard, "How much do you weigh?"

I decide not to question it, and reply, "'Bout one-fifteen, one-twenty. Not very sure."

John scrunches his nose up and mumbles something about being 'skinny as a rod' when we're finally first in line and asked what our order is.

I watch as John smiles at the cashier and says, "Hiya Christine, can we get two deluxe burgers, four orders of fries, a chocolate milkshake and a root beer float?"

The cashier - whose name is Christine apparently - nods and takes the twenty John gives her and hands him his change. John turns back to me and asks if I'll go grab us a spot at one of the tables I somehow didn't notice sitting off to the side when we got here.

I snag the table closest to John and watch him with my cheek resting in my palm. I don't catch what he says but from the looks of it he told a joke that makes the all the employees of the place laugh and John grin like an idiot.

I get so caught up in watching John that I almost fall off my chair when my phone goes off in my pocket.

\-- tentacleTherapist [TT] began pestering turntechGodhead [TG] at 12:16--  


TT: Dave.

TG: sup rose

TT: I take it that you have settled into your dorm at the University of Washington, yes?

TG: yeah got here a week ago why are you asking anyways

TT: I promised my mother and your brother I would check in on you.

TG: oh. oh jesus my bros gonna come up here and do something i can feel it

TG: rose. rose if you know something you HAVE to let me know

TG: i got a good thing going here ok

TT: How do you mean a 'good thing'?

TT: Did you meet someone?

TG: well sort of

TT: It's only been a week since you left. I have to say, I'm quite impressed.

TG: oh stuff it

TG: just dont let bro fuck this up for me

TG: if you must know his name is john and were roommates

TT: A college romance, hm? Is he aware of your feelings?

TG: oh hell no

TG: we just met yesterday

TT: You've only known this boy for a day and you're already in love? This must be a new record, Dave.

TG: oh shut up just shut up

TG: were best friends and im not gonna let this turn into some brokeback mountain bullshit

TG: gotta wait and get to know him better before i pull the moves out on him

TT: What moves? Since when have you had moves?

TG: ha ha real funny rose

TG: anyways i gotta head out

TT: But we only just started talking.

TG: johns back with food

TG: we went out to lunch ok

TG: tell aunt i said hi and am ok and tell my bro to fuck off and dont even think about visiting

\-- turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] at 12:23--

John looks happy to see me carrying two paper bags, a cupboard cup tray with two cups in it in hand and two straws sticking out of his mouth. It doesn't take long before I have a big ass burger, two packages of fries and a root beer float with a straw and spoon sitting in front of me.

John grins at me and says, "Bon appetit!" in the worst French accent I've ever heard. I grin and try the fries first. Which are pretty good, I guess, better than McDonald's and definitely fresh. I pick up my burger and John advises me to keep the bottom half in the wrapper to which I raise an eyebrow and do as he says.

This is literally the best burger I've ever had. It's like I can't eat the thing fast enough. It's gone within several bites and my stomach hasn't been this happy in forever. 

John laughs and says, "Pretty good, huh?"

I burp in response and John laughs a little harder, trying to calm himself so he can eat his. I've just barely got my spoon in my root beer float when my phone goes off again. My eyes flick down to my phone screen and it's. . .Bro. Bro is calling me.

I groan, and have a heated debate with John about whether or not I should ignore the call and let us eat our lunch in peace or answer the phone call and deal with whatever earful Bro's prepared for me.

By the time John and I have finished arguing about it, Bro's called three times and left just as many voicemails. John looks from me to my phone and back to me and for no reason at all busts up laughing taking me down with him in a horrible laughing fit.

Jesus Christ, I love this boy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so I finally updated! it took me forever and I'm sorry but I've got plans for this and am definitely gonna update within the next week or so, comments are forever appreciated and you can expect Jade and Jake to get involved soon too


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